


superposition

by elfslur (gayprophets)



Series: collide the spaces that divide us [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time (together not generally.), Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Semi-unsafe sex, Sex, Sex Is Fun, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, barclay's a bottom who eats puthy. there i said it., discussion of sex, tbh normal people having pretty normal sex normally. compared to some of the stuff on here anyways, well i finally did it., yeah! fun times!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprophets/pseuds/elfslur
Summary: “I don’t mind it when you look at me,” he says, his voice quiet and sleep rough. His thumb is on Mama’s pulse point, and he can feel the steady thrum of her heart quicken slightly as he looks up at her. The light in the room is pre-dawn grey, dim, but he can make out details like the crows feet around her eyes, her faintly stunned expression. Her eyes are deep pools of black, like a lake under a night sky.“Sorry,” she says, finally, barely above a whisper. “You...” she trails off, hesitant.“For what?” he asks. He fights back a yawn. “I -,” he pauses, struggling against the urge to let it go, afraid of rejection, and it’s a wonder that his next words come out level and smooth, confident like he’s not shaking inside. “I like it.”-mama and barclay have sex sexily. thats it. thats all. minors do not interact thanks.





	superposition

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read the previous work i'll just summarize:  
Mama and Barclay are on a roadtrip to pick up moira to bring her back to the lodge. oh no there was only one bed in the shitty motel they stop at. oh no theyve been pining forever. whatever will they do.  
this is just a "what if barclay had woken up earlier" to slightly change the events in the other piece.  
title from superposition by young the giant!
> 
> if you are under 18 do not read this. go away.

In the morning Mama’s up before Barclay, and before the alarm. He wakes when she sits up, just a little, enough to clock the movement and decide it nonthreatening. It's not long after that that his brain more or less taps him on the shoulder and says  _ you are being watched. _ He doesn’t move at first - more than once he’s avoided fighting something by pretending not to notice it - and then realizes that it’s only Mama. 

He shifts over to face her, cracking his eyes open, only to find her immediately turning away like she’s only just woken up. Before he can think it through, he reaches out and grabs her wrist, gentle.

“I don’t mind it when you look at me,” he says, his voice quiet and sleep rough. His thumb is on Mama’s pulse point, and he can feel the steady thrum of her heart quicken slightly as he looks up at her. The light in the room is pre-dawn grey, dim, but he can make out details like the crows feet around her eyes, her faintly stunned expression. Her eyes are deep pools of black, like a lake under a night sky.

“Sorry,” she says, finally, barely above a whisper. “You...” she trails off, hesitant.

“For what?” he asks. He fights back a yawn. “I -,” he pauses, struggling against the urge to let it go, afraid of rejection, and it’s a wonder that his next words come out level and smooth, confident like he’s not shaking inside. “I like it.”

Mama takes a deep, shuddering breath, then brushes his hair off of his face with her free hand.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, reverent. Her hand hovers by his face for a moment, like she’s about to touch him, then withdraws. “I could - I could watch you all day.”

“Why don’t you?” he asks, leveraging himself up onto his elbow. He doesn’t think it’s bright enough for his flush to be visible, but he can feel it in the burning tips of his ears.

“Thought I was makin’ you uncomfortable,” she admits. She twists her wrist out of his grasp only to take his hand in her own. Their fingers stretch for a moment, pressed palm to palm like she’s comparing their sizes - his hands are bigger, but only slightly - before she threads their fingers together. 

“You weren’t,” Barclay replies, sitting up all the way. “I promise, you weren’t.”

They’re so close, he realizes, almost nose to nose, legs touching. He can feel the heat coming off of her skin.

She leans in and kisses him. It’s not quite a peck, but it  _ is _ chaste, lasting only a few seconds before she pulls back, looks at him. He’s not sure what the expression on his face is, but it makes her laugh and look over his shoulder at the clock.

“We got time,” she says, smiling. 

“Thank  _ god,” _ he replies, and kisses her again, her mouth blood hot against his own. She slides a hand along his jawline, up into his hair. Barclay's somehow managed to forget how fun it is to kiss someone who’s good at it, and Mama’s  _ great, _ her lips fitting against his easily, slow, not pushy, the right amount of tongue. She hums softly as he slides a hand up her stomach, stopping just below her breasts. He pulls back enough to mumble, “Can I?” 

She wraps a strong forearm around his lower back and pulls him into her lap, his knees on either side of her thighs. “Please,” Mama replies, easy, like she does this all the time. Barclay’s brain shorts out for a moment as she pulls her tank top off - she’s not trying to make a show out of it, but she might as well be for how Barclay’s thought process grinds to a halt at the sight of her bare chest. 

Mama chucks the shirt over towards their bags, and her shoulder clicks as she does so - as does most of her spine, popping loudly like gunshots. She grimaces and rolls her shoulder a few times.

“If you want, I could give you a massage,” Barclay says, pressing a kiss under her left ear. “If you’re hurting.”

Mama pushes him backwards slightly to look him in the eyes. “Are you sayin’ that because you don’t wanna have sex? ‘Cause if so, just say it, I’ll back off. But if you’re offerin’ ‘cause you think I’m in pain I’m gonna throw a rock at you.”

Barclay huffs, slightly embarrassed. “No - I do, I just -,”

“Sweet  _ Jesus,” _ Mama says, laughing, knocking their foreheads together. 

“Excuse me for  _ caring, _ I’ll be sure to do that  _ less _ in the futu-  _ oh,” _ Barclay gasps as Mama slips her hand under his boxers and wraps it around his cock.  _ “Oh.” _

“Stop treatin’ me like glass,” she says, giving him a few soft pumps, barely anything at all, which is going to drive him absolutely insane if she keeps it up. “I could pick you up and throw you ‘round like a  _ ragdoll. _ Do it again and I  _ will _ throw rocks at you. I’m serious!” she continues when he laughs. “And then  _ neither _ of us will get laid.”

“You could,” he agrees, refusing to feel embarrassed about the desperation and want in his voice. “The first part anyways, I’m -  _ fuck _ \- not sure where you’d find rocks in the city.”

“This is near the coast, they got tons of rocks up here!” Mama says, which makes him laugh again, shivering as she slides a hand through his hair to cup the back of his head, extracting the other one from his boxers to wrap her arm around his waist.

“Again,” Barclay says, after choking back a whine at the loss of contact, “I say, in the ci-,” 

A door slams right next door to them and they both jump, Mama’s hand in his hair turning into a fist, tugging sharply, and his gasp turns into a surprised moan, embarrassingly loud. 

Mama looks at him for a long moment, and Barclay sets his jaw, refusing to feel shame about it even as he feels his face flushing darker.

“Huh,” she says, bland in a way that sounds  _ wicked. _ “Interesting.” 

Her grip on his hair tightens,  _ pulling, _ pleasure zipping down his spine like lightning and faint pain tingling across his scalp as she pulls his head backwards: smooth, firm, inescapable pressure. Barclay gasps, following her hand down as she pulls his back into an arch, whimpers as she kisses his neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, making him whine, his hands clutching at her shoulders.

“You like that, huh?” Mama asks, pressing kisses along his jaw. He goes to reply, but all that comes out is a dry croak, which makes her laugh. 

“I can’t hear you,” she drawls, hauling him back upright, grinning as he moans and grasps the back of her hand with one of his own. “Simple question, hotshot. I need a yes -,” she uses her grip to make him nod, “Or a no.” She shakes his head, rough.

“Yes!” Barclay gasps out, trying not to rut against her stomach and failing miserably. He’s so hard he could pound  _ nails. _ “Oh my God, yes, I like it!” 

“Glad to hear it,” she says, smiling, then lets go. “Take your shirt off.”

He does: it’s an order, not that he’d refuse even if it wasn’t. His face feels hot and feverish, and his hands shake as he tosses the shirt over with hers. Her eyes immediately go to his chest, hungry.

“Jesus, your  _ tits,” _ she says, ever blunt. 

Barclay barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “They’re not  _ tits, _ and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, besides.” He’s openly grinding against her stomach now, unashamed, seeking friction wherever he can get it. He can feel her shifting underneath him as well, the muscles in her thighs flexing.

“They might as well be,” Mama replies, giving his  _ pecs, damn it Mama, _ an appreciative squeeze, thumbs rubbing over his nipples, making him sigh. “And stitchin’ you up doesn’t count, don’t be an ass.” One of her hands smooths down his side over a trio of scars marring his ribs, healed for a few months now. He’s about to get on her case about guilt again when she flips them over, using the sudden vertigo and confusion to pull his underwear off, licking her palm and then kissing him, hard, wrapping a hand around his dick. 

Barclay moans into her mouth, slinging an arm around her torso, other hand going to one of her breasts to roll her nipple between his fingertips, smiling when her breath hitches. He pushes his knee up slowly, thigh sliding between Mama’s legs, which she presses down onto immediately with a groan, eyes fluttering shut. She’s so wet he can feel it through her boxers against his skin, and they move together for a bit, comfortably, the soft sounds of her hand and their mouths filling the air. 

Mama nips his bottom lip before pulling back, grinning at him, then kisses down his neck again, biting sharply on his chest, making him squeak and her laugh, soothing over the little mark with her tongue. She moves down further, dragging her teeth over the skin on his hips, settling in between his legs, and he shivers. She pauses for a moment when she gets to his cock, her breath huffing softly over the half-hooded head. “This okay?” One of her hands slides under his hips to grab his ass, immediately sending his brain elsewhere, such as back home - she’s talked about owning a strap in the past, and he’s suddenly  _ desperately _ wondering if she still has it.

He blinks at her for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, and she bites at his hip again,  _ hard, _ making him jolt and yelp.

“As I said,” she reminds him, “Yes or no, baby, simple question. Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he rasps, finally.  _ “Please.” _

Mana takes him into her soft mouth and blows him like she  _ owns _ him, taking him deep and rubbing a gentle hand over his balls - Barclay has to throw an arm over his eyes in self defense, his other hand tangling in her curly hair. He’s making little noises, involuntary, as she wraps her lips around the head, flicking her tongue gently through the slit and sliding her lips over the sensitive foreskin, hollowing her cheeks with every slow drag upwards and stroking everything that won’t fit in her mouth with her hand. It’s  _ embarrassing _ how little time passes before he’s pushing at her shoulders - he swears he used to have  _ stamina. _ “Stop,  _ stop stop,” _ he gasps out, and she pulls off with a wet  _ pop. _

“Everything alright?” she asks.

“Y-You’re gonna- you’re gonna make me come,” he replies, bringing the hand in her hair down to cup her face, thumb stroking across her cheekbone.

“And?” she asks, far too smug. “Do you want to?”

“No, n-not yet,” he says, gasping again as she resumes jacking him off, languidly. “Please - Jesus  _ Christ.” _

“Nope, just me,” she laughs. “Are you sure? It kinda looks like you  _ need _ to come, Barclay.” He can feel her hips grinding against the mattresses as he talks, the movement in time with every stroke of her hand around his cock. Her cheeks are flushed dark, her black eyes bright and wicked in the early dawn light, pink tongue poking out as she licks her lips, contrasting sharply with the white of her teeth. He feels, faintly, like how an antelope must feel while staring down a lion. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know.”

Barclay covers his eyes again, which she immediately takes as an invitation to start sucking him off again.  _ “Fuck!” _ he snaps out, pulling his hand away from his face. “Please, I can’t -,”

“Sure  _ sounds _ like you need to come too,” Mama says. “I can make that happen, baby. Just say the word.”

Barclay shakes his head, breath shuddering out of him as she licks up the underside of his cock. “You’re a  _ menace,” _ he says, accusing. “Not  _ yet _ \- I want, could we -,”

“Could we what?” she interrupts, sounding as innocent as one can physically be while also mouthing around the base of his shaft. “Spit it out. I’m down for anythin’.”

“Could we -  _ shit, _ I didn’t bring any condoms,” he says, and she laughs. 

“I got my tubes tied years back,” she says, stroking him still, idly, something to do with her hands. “And I’m clean.”

“I am too,” he says. 

“Sounds like we’re all set then,” she says, letting him go and sitting up, sitting back, and wriggling her boxers off with much more bouncing than is, perhaps, strictly necessary. Barclay pulls her back over to him, switching places so her back is against the pillows and slipping a hand between her legs, the other one holding him up above her with one elbow. Her skin is so  _ soft _ under the her thatch of wiry hair, and her slick covers his fingers immediately. She moans, desperate, the second his fingers make contact with her sex, biting his shoulder to muffle it. Two of his fingers slide inside her easily and she grinds her clit into his wrist, her nails digging into his back before her hands go up to pull on his hair, hauling him into a messy kiss. He works a third finger into her and flutters them, gentle, trying to stretch her some more - he’s not exactly small and the last thing he wants to do is hurt her. She gasps at the feeling, riding his hand harder, her moans into his mouth getting louder. 

_ “Yeah,” _ Mana murmurs against his lips. “Yeah, like that,  _ please, _ just like that.” She clamps down on his hand like a vise when she comes, eyes shut and mouth open, groaning out little pleas and praises that have his dick twitching where it lies against her hip, her pulse hot around his fingers. He gentles her through it, watching bliss bloom across her face, enraptured. 

She looks downright wrecked when she opens her eyes again, shaking her head a few times as she tries to refocus, loosening slowly around him once again. He goes to pull back and she grabs his wrist, keeping him there.

“No,” she says. “Just - just wait a minute.” Then she kisses him - their teeth clack momentarily, making them both laugh. Soon enough she’s back to grinding against his hand, and she lets him withdraw, slowly. 

He slicks himself up with the same hand, then lines his cock up with her entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Is this okay?” he asks, just to check.

_ “Barclay,” _ she snaps, but there’s no heat in it.

“Just want to make sure -,”

“I  _ will _ find a rock, Barclay, I swear to fuck!” Mama says, fisting a hand in his hair and  _ pulling. “Now.” _

Barclay pushes into her, slow, and they both moan at the feeling. She’s hot and  _ tight _ around him, and she clutches at him, her blunt nails scoring welts down his back as she grabs for purchase. The first slide in takes his breath away, an overwhelming rush of pure  _ sensation, _ heat and pressure and pleasure. He has to pause there, bottomed out, his breath half a sob into the crook of her neck. Her skin tastes like salt when he kisses it.

“That’s  _ good,” _ Mama says, her hands stroking firmly down his sides, down his arms, elbows planted on either side of her shoulders. “You feel so good. Fuck is your cock  _ nice, _ baby, you’re so  _ big.” _

Barclays breath shudders out of him again, and he drops his forehead back against her shoulder. He feels her hook her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles, locking him there. “J-Just -,” he swallows. “Just tell me when I can move.”

Mama breathes deeply for another few seconds before rocking her hips back into his. “Okay,” she says, “I’m ready.”

He tries to set the pace to something slow and even so he can last longer, but Mama’s quickly tugging on his scalp, ordering him  _ more yes harder please, _ and who is he to say no? He thrusts into her, harder, and it's barely any time at all before she pushes him up off of her chest, one hand still fisted in his hair.

“Lemme see you come,” she rasps, breathless, “I wanna see you, come on, come inside me. Show me how good you feel.”

He moans, loud, tries to kiss her but she holds him back, her hold on his hair sending sparks shooting behind his eyes.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Mama says. “Lemme see how gorgeous you look.”

Barclay comes with a whine, high and in the back of his throat, hips stuttering into hers a few more times before going still. She relaxes her hold and lets him drop onto her chest, running her hands down his back, soothing. 

_ “God,” _ he says, finally, a few minutes later when he finally gets his brain moving in some semblance of order. 

Mama laughs. “Yeah,” she replies, carding her hands through his hair now, gently touching anything she can reach. Barclay pushes up off of her and pulls out, and his mouth immediately goes dry at the sight of her, dark skin stark against the shitty white motel sheets, her folds wet and open, his own cum spilling out of her.

“Mama,” he says, “Can I eat you out?”

She blinks at him for a long moment. “You ain’t serious,” she replies.

“I am,” he replies, still staring.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she says, faint. “Holy  _ shit. _ Go for it.”

He kisses his way up her thigh to her sex - she’s warmed up already, sighing at just his breath, so he leans in and swipes his tongue up in one broad stroke, salt and musk at the back of his throat. “You taste so  _ good,” _ he mumbles, rewarded with how she groans, pushing back into him as he kisses her, open mouthed. 

He hasn’t done this in a long while - most of his experience both before and after being exiled was with men, but he finds he picks it up again easily enough. It’s all listening, and right now Mama’s all vowels, clutching at a pillow with one hand when he glances up at her, the other in his hair again, putting his mouth where she wants it. He spends a happy while between her legs, figuring out the spots that make her shake and which ones make her thump a fist into the bed above him, what makes her growl at him to  _ quit fuckin’ teasin’ _ and what makes her words fall away entirely. For a bit he’s got his tongue worked do deep into her he’s more or less fucking her with it, the aching numbness in his jaw far, far away.

Barclay traces a quick Z up her folds with his tongue, circling around her clit and then sucking on it, and her hips push harder against his face until shes riding it outright, his hands under her hips to support her. She comes again with a shout, her legs snapping shut around his head, blocking out all sound, the big muscles in her thighs jumping and flexing against his cheeks. It’s quiet, for a moment. Barclay eases her off with a few soft licks and sets her back down onto the bed before wiping his face off on the sheets.

Mama pulls him up to her with trembling hands, kisses him deep and hard, gasping for air even as she does so. 

“You’re somethin’ else,” Mama says, eventually. 

“I take it that was alright, then?” he asks, smiling, and she laughs, kissing him again, little pecks - the corners of his mouth, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. She glances at the clock and makes a face that says she hates everything about what she sees.

“Go shower,” she says. “Or we’re gonna be late.”

Barclay groans and drops his head, sitting up. “You sure you don’t want to go first?”

“Gotta start feelin’ my damn legs again to do that,” she says, smiling when he lets out a little bark of laughter. “I don’t think I can stand up.”

“Alright,” Barclay replies, rolling out of the bed, he has a few seconds himself where his knees wobble a little, but it resolves itself shortly. He leans over the bed and kisses her once more before heading to the shower. 

* * *

Back at the Lodge, after they bundle Thacker back home and get Moira settled in - she politely asks to be left alone for the night, which is rather unsurprising - Mama pulls Barclay up to her bedroom.

“Didn’t get a proper afterglow cuddle,” she grumbles, shucking her jeans off and kicking them into the corner without bothering to take her belt out of the loops. He takes the hint and undresses too, and they collapse into her bed together, slipping under the quilt. The sheets smell like their laundry detergent and are soft, rather than reeking of bleach and being stiff, coarse. 

They pull in close to each other, facing inwards - the opening and closing of a set of parentheses, but nothing between them. Barclay smiles at her, bringing her hand up to his mouth so he can kiss the callouses on her palm. It’s silent for a few minutes. Mama shuts her eyes.

“So you - you like me, I take it?” Barclay asks, finally, and Mama’s eyes snap open to give him an incredulous look that almost borders on insulted.

“No,” she says, bitingly sarcastic. “I had mind blowing sex with you ‘cause I hate you.  _ Yes _ I like you, dumbass.” 

“Just checking!” he says, chuckling, stroking her hair back from her face.

“‘Just check’ one more time and I’m gonna  _ just check _ you through a window,” she mutters. 

“Please don’t, we just put them in,” he replies, smiling. She smiles back.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Mama says. “I… this was nice. I’d like to do it again, if you’d like. But beyond sex…” 

“I’d like that,” Barclay says, then continues; “We can do what we’ve been doing, but with… less uncertainty.”

“I’d like that,” she says.

_ “Neat,” _ Barclay replies, and then immediately imagines going back into the past and punching himself in the face several times. Mama laughs, though, so he supposes it’s alright.

“So you like gettin’ your hair pulled,” Mama says, and Barclay’s breath catches slightly at the conversational shift. “And I assume bossin’ you ‘round was okay, but is there anythin’ else I should be aware of?” 

Barclay feels the tips of his ears going red. “Uh,” he says, eloquently.

“Don’t make me guess,” she tells him in that same wicked, bland manner that sends a little shiver up his spine. “We’ll be here for quite a while.”

Barclay covers his eyes with one hand, the other one holding hers. “Do you, uh.” He clears his throat, and she pushes his hand away from his face. “You said a while ago that you had a strap on? Do- do you still have it?” 

She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle up. “Do I still have my  _ strap, _ he asks,” she says, almost mocking but not quite. “I made that thing with my own two hands, hotshot. I’m gonna make y’all bury me in it.” She cups his face with the hand not holding his, thumb stroking across his bottom lip. He opens his mouth and draws the digit in, swirling his tongue around it and watching Mama’s gaze darken.

_ “God _ you’re fun,” she says, using her thumb to open his mouth. “I think this is gonna go  _ great.” _

**Author's Note:**

> yeah uh. hope you enjoyed. sorry if it's illegible i wrote 80% of it in one shot at 3 am last night and i edited but there's some times in the morning writing just doesn't come back from.


End file.
